and the man he’d become…
He was tall, lean, ripped. He had sun-bleached brown hair and sea-blue eyes. Did he still surf? He looked a bit weathered, so maybe he did. He was wearing chinos, a shirt and a tie, but the shirtsleeves were rolled up and the tie was a bit askew, as if he’d been working hard and was expecting more work to come.
He’d taken time out today to visit her. That was why the queue had built up, she thought, and then she thought taking time out must have been an act of desperation. He’d made himself later still in an attempt to get the help he desperately needed.
He was surrounded by need. He looked harassed to the point of exhaustion.
‘Ginny,’ he said flatly as he saw her, and then managed a smile. ‘Hi, Button.’ He sighed. ‘Ginny, I need to spend some time with you and Button—I reckon she does need that check-up—but as you can see, I’m under pressure. Do you think you could come back in an hour or so? I hadn’t expected you so soon.’
An hour or so. She looked around the waiting room and thought…an hour or so?
She knew this island. There was a solid fishing community, and there were always tourists, but there was also a fair proportion of retirees, escapees from the rat race of the mainland, so there were thus many elderly residents.
What was the bet that Ben would have half a dozen house calls lined up after clinic? she thought, and glanced at his face, saw the tension and knew she was right.
‘Can I help?’ she said, almost before she knew she intended to say it.
His face stilled. ‘You said…’
‘For this afternoon only,’ she said flatly. ‘But you helped me with Button.’ As if that explained everything—which it didn’t. ‘If there’s someone who could care for Button…’
‘You’re sure?’ Ben’s face stilled with surprise, but before she could speak he shook his head. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid. The lady’s made the offer in front of witnesses.’ And before she could speak again he’d knelt by Button. ‘Button, do you like making chocolate cake?’
‘Yes,’ Button said, a response he was starting to expect. She was puzzled but game.
‘This is Nurse Abby,’ Ben said, motioning to the nurse beside him. ‘Abby’s little boy is making chocolate cupcakes with my sister, Hannah, right now. We have a kitchen right next door. When they’re finished they’ll decorate them with chocolate buttons and then walk down to the beach to have fish and chips for tea. Would you like to do that?’
‘Yes,’ she said again, and Ginny thought, God bless Down’s kids, with their friendly, unquestioning outlook on the world. If Button had been a normal four-year-old, she’d no doubt be a ball of tension right now, and who’d blame her? But Down’s kids tended to accept the world as they found it.
She would get her Monkey back for her, she thought fiercely, and she picked Button up and gave her a hug.
‘You’re such a good girl,’ she said, and Button gave a pleased smile.
‘I’m a good girl,’ she said, and beamed, and Abby took her hand and led her out to where chocolate cupcakes were waiting and Ginny was left looking at Ben, while twenty-odd islanders looked on.
‘Everyone, this is…’ Ben hesitated. ‘Dr Ginny Koestrel?’
‘Yes,’ she said, and turned to the room at large. She had no doubt what the islanders thought of her parents but she’d never changed her name and she had no intention of starting now.
‘Many of you know my parents owned Red Fire Winery. You’ll know Henry Stubbs—he’s been looking after it for us, but he hasn’t been well so I’ve come home to run it. But Ben’s right, I’m a doctor. I’m an Australian and for this afternoon I’m here to help.’ She took a deep breath, seeing myriad questions building.
Okay, she thought, if she was going to be a source of gossip, why not use it to advantage?
‘Ben says many of you are just here for prescriptions,’ she said. ‘If you’re happy to have an Aussie doctor, I can see you—we can get you all home earlier that way. I’ll need to get scripts signed by Dr Ben because I don’t have New Zealand accreditation yet, but I can check your records, make sure there are no problems, write the scripts and then Dr Ben can sign them in between seeing patients who need to see him for other reasons. Is that okay with everyone?’
It was. First, Ben’s face cleared with relief and she knew she was right in thinking he had house calls lined up afterwards. Second, every face in the waiting room was looking at her with avid interest. Guinevere Koestrel, daughter of the millionaires who’d swanned around the island, splashing money around, but now not looking like a millionaire at all. She’d been on the island for months but she’d kept herself to herself. Now suddenly she was in the clinic with a little girl.
She knew there’d have been gossip circulating about her since her arrival. Here was a chance for that gossip to be confirmed in person. She could practically see patients who’d come with minor ailments swapping to the prescription-only side of the queue. She glanced at Ben and saw him grin and knew he was thinking exactly the same.
‘Excellent plan, Dr Koestrel,’ he said. He motioned to the door beside the one he’d just come out of. ‘That’s our second consulting suite. I’m sorry we don’t have time for a tour. You want to go in there and make yourself comfortable? There’s software on the computer that’ll show pharmacy lists. I’ll have Abby come in and show you around. She can do your patient histories, guide you through. Thank you very much,’ he said. ‘And you don’t need to explain about Henry. Henry’s here.’
He turned to an elderly man in the corner, and she realised with a shock that it was her farm manager.
Henry had been caretaker for her parents’ vineyard for ever. It had been Henry’s phone call—‘Sorry, miss, but my arthritis is getting bad and you need to think about replacing me’—that had fed the impulse to return, but when she’d come he hadn’t let her help. He’d simply wanted to be gone.
‘I’m right, miss,’ he’d said, clearing out the caretaker’s residence and ignoring her protests that she’d like him to stay. ‘I’ve got me own place. I’m done with Koestrels.’
Her parents had a lot to answer for, she thought savagely, realising how shabby the caretaker’s residence had become, how badly the old man had been treated, and then she thought maybe she had a lot to answer for, too. At seventeen she’d been as sure of her place in the world as her parents—and just as oblivious of Henry’s.
‘This means I can see you next, Henry,’ Ben said gently. ‘We have Dr Ginny here now and suddenly life is a lot easier for all of us.’
She’d said that her help was for this afternoon only, but she had to stay.
Ben had no doubt she’d come to the clinic under pressure, but the fact that she’d seen the workload he was facing and had reacted was a good sign. Wasn’t it?
It had to be. He had a qualified doctor working in the room next door and there was no way he was letting her go.
Even if it was Ginny Koestrel.
Especially if it was Ginny Koestrel?
See,
